


Gwnewch y pethau bychain (Do the Little Things)

by ABroodyGay



Series: Magic Moments (Pupcake Prompts) [1]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Fluff, St Davids day, fluffyfluffyfluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABroodyGay/pseuds/ABroodyGay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hands you the flowers with a wink and a grin.“You come ‘ere more often than I see some fellas do for their girls. You must ‘ave a lot of vases in Nonnatus.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gwnewch y pethau bychain (Do the Little Things)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow look I've written something that isn't sin
> 
> Prompt from http://namesrfunny.tumblr.com/ :Patsy finds Delia and Sister Monica Joan having a bonding moment.

You pause at the market on the way home from one of the quickest births you’ve possibly ever attended. Linda had said it was like “shelling peas when you’ve ‘ad sevin other’s nurse” cradling her new baby girl, tired but comfortable. Now you’re mind is on still sweeter things. Like the daffodils that are just coming into bud on the flower stall or how you had slipped inside and left a note on Delia’s bedside table reading; _Hapus Dydd Gŵyl Dewi, love Patsy_   and a soft kiss to a barely stirring Delia. You think a bunch of these will be perfect for the occasion.

“Alrigh’ Nurse? Not been up for too long I ‘ope?” asks the street vendor as he wraps up the bundle you’ve chosen in a piece of newspaper.

You offer him a warm smile and hold out sixpence. “No, no. It’s been a fairly quiet night actually.”

He hands you the flowers with a wink and a grin.“You come ‘ere more often than I see some fellas do for their girls. You must ‘ave a lot of vases in Nonnatus.”

For a moment you freeze. He’s closer to the truth than you would care to admit but you manage to stutter out a “Oh...uh yes, yes we do.” You put them next to your midwifery case head off with a friendly wave.

When you arrive, legs a little achey from the briskness of your ride, breakfast has long finished. You left the house at four in the morning and breakfast was served at six. It was now eight o’clock and your stomach growls when you take in the scent of something vaguely sweet and spicy, like a Christmas cake baking.

“Mrs B?”

“No! It is Nurse Busby and I. We are indulging in creating traditional Welsh fare!” You hurry to the clinical room and quickly put your instruments into the autoclave before peering your head around the kitchen door. Sister Monica Joan has her sleeves rolled back and a smudge of flour on her nose. She’s sipping a cup of tea and looks content. “We are just speaking of our times in the Gaelic lands. My father used to take my mother and I to Pembrokeshire every summer to take the sea air.”

You take a seat at the table and watch as Delia bends to take something out of the oven, an apron tied around her waist. You enjoy the way her skirt tightens over her bottom but only allow yourself a momentary glance lest it is noticed, but Sister Monica Joan seems far more occupied with what is coming out of the oven. Delia turns around cheeks pink from the heat of the oven and wearing a yellow jumper under the pink apron usually worn by Mrs B when she was baking. “Here we are! Bara brith! I asked mam to send me the recipe and seeing as I had the morning off I thought yo- I mean everyone would enjoy it.” She turns the cake out onto a cooling rack and you notice the flush in her cheeks has darkened and your own heart rate picks up just a little. Sometimes it was so easy to let things slip and it would only take the tiniest amount of suspicion for the current arrangement to come tumbling down. The wrong words at the wrong time, a touch that lingered too long, a wistful look...they could all spell your downfall.

However once again you are lucky because Sister Monica Joan's attention is still on the cake. “Shall we partake in a slice now?” she says eagerly, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“Yes, I don’t see why not. Patsy would you mind fetching the butter? It’s a tradition to eat it warm with butter for breakfast on St.David's day.”

You hurry and fetch the butter dish from the cool box and feel your stomach rumble again when Delia cuts first Sister Monica Joan, then you a slice, spreading it thickly with butter. “Hapus Dydd Gŵyl Dewi” says Delia then bites into her own slice. You watch a little melted butter trickle down her chin and want to badly to reach out and wipe it away with your thumb. Sister Monica Joan gobbles it up quickly and reaches for the knife to cut herself a second slice but not before Delia quickly lifts the rack away. “Sister Julienne told me you weren’t to have too much of this. As I recall last time you had too much cake you ended up having a bilious attack for the half the night.”

Your have to bite your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Sister Monica Joan is glaring at the both of you like a spoiled child. “Very well. But if you do hide it I shall find where you have secreted it. I shall pray to Saint David and he shall guide me. All shall be revealed” And she flounces off, nose in the air. The moment she disappears round the corner you both burst into peals of laughter.

“Oh dear. I think I’ve upset her. She’s been lovely company this morning. We have a few places in common, Dale and Broad Haven just to name two.” You allow yourself to slip an arm around her waist and pull her closer to you. You are surprised at your own daring and despite keeping your ears peeled for approaching footsteps you feel content and relaxed.  You take in the scent of her perfume mixed with the mixed spices and sugar from the baking when the yellow of her jumper jogs your memory.

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

You get up and dash quickly back to the clinical room and grabbing the daffodils off the table where you left them. “I saw these and simply had to get them for you. It isn’t St.David's day without daffodils.”

She takes them from you with a smile that makes her eyes crinkle. “Oh Pats. You are too sweet.” She leans up to kiss your cheek.

 _“Rwy'n dy garu di.”_ And you don’t need to speak Welsh to know what she just murmured in your ear.

“I love you too, _Cariad._ ”

“Well your accent is still terrible but I suppose it will do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hapus Dydd Gŵyl Dewi means Happy St.Davids day


End file.
